Dorran and I face him. He’s standing with his arms folded across his chest, with Jayce by his side, who looks like he wants to crawl into himself.
“What are you guys doing here anyway?” I ask.
“We thought you two must’ve finished dinner by now, so we wanted to come get the dishes and stuff,” Jayce answers.
“Well, we are done, now that you fools have interrupted us,” Dorran states, then sighs and waves a hand in the table’s direction. “Cigs and I’ll bring everything down to your apartment.”
I nod, and Alex glances between Dorran and I with a smirk on his face.
“Since when do the two of you carrydishes?” he teases.
“Fucking zip it,” Dorran mutters, then walks over to the table and starts piling the plates together.
I join him, and ignore the looks of complete hilarity on Jayce and Alex’s faces. But when I chance a fleeting glance at the latter, he winks at me, making me chuckle to myself.
41.
Icrouch to make sure the oil has drained completely into the oil pan I’d placed under the grey Honda HR-V I’ve been working on for the last couple of hours. Seeing that it has, I set the pan aside and lie on my orange Creeper, then roll under the car. Locating the space where the oil filter should be, I grab a new one from next to me and start screwing it on slowly, making sure not to put too much pressure. I then slide out from under the car, pop open its hood, and uncap the oil-fill port before pouring fresh oil into the reservoir. Once I’m done, I cap off the port and close the hood, and have only just picked up a cloth to wipe my hands, when my phone pings back-to-back with 2 new messages.
I throw the cloth on my toolbox, then pull my phone out from my jeans pocket before reading the texts.
Solo:sent a photo.
Solo:Colton Davis. 21. Raped our client’s 13-year-old sister. The fucker’s gonna be at Aurea Vista tonight at 10. I’ve informed Eddie.
I grind my teeth as I scan Colton’s photo. It’s a selfie, and the asshole is grinning in it. Brown hair, green eyes – he’s a living, breathing cliché. Not for long, though.
Me:And our client?
I look at my crew as I wait for Solo to respond. Varsha is tallying up our monthly finances on the garage’s laptop behind the main counter, whereas Alex is working on a customer’s Kawasaki, and Jayce is changing the tires on a blue Corvette.
I grab a metal chair from next to my work station, then settle down in front of the Honda, just as a new text from Solo comes in.
Solo:Bryce Landers. Him and Colton are seniors at the same college. Mostly acquaintances before the incident, which took place during a party at Bryce’s house last week. His dad’s paying for the kill, and has asked for proof as well.
I smirk as I type my response.
Me:Perfect. I’ll tell the crew.
Solo:Text me if there’s a hiccup. I’ll be waiting for your call.
Me:Got it.
I close the chat page and open the one that’s directly below his.
Me:Wanna help me with a kill tonight? Aurea Vista, 10p.m.
I look up from my phone. “We’ve got a kill tonight, guys,” I address my crew, and when their heads turn to me, I lean back in my chair and relay to them the details Solo gave me. Once I’m done, I clear my throat and add, “I’ve asked Cignette to join us.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Alex mumbles, and Varsha exhales heavily before shaking her head a little. Jayce, on the other hand, narrows his eyes at me in a way that’s both scrutinizing and threatening.
I click my tongue. “She’ll be fine,” I say.
“Oh, I know,” Jayce counters. “It’syouI’m worried about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You lose focus when she’s around you, Ledge,” Alex states with a faint smile. “And don’t get me wrong, we adore Cigs–”
